


Fluffy ShikaChou DRABS

by Octopocalypse



Category: Naruto
Genre: Crushes, Drabbles, M/M, Secret Crush, Unconsciousness, friendcrush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 21:44:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10500045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Octopocalypse/pseuds/Octopocalypse
Summary: Drabbles are things I put minimal effort into and are, for the most part, so I can get an idea out quickly without stress. That being said they are subject to having run on sentences, grammatical errors and potential mistakes.In other words; they are not something I would put on my resume so do not use them as a judgement on my capabilities as a writer <3It is just a more relaxing way for me to write when I do not feel like exerting myself for a serious fic so that I can keep the quality UP for those more involving ideas =dthnxno criticism welcome on drabbles since I know they're terrible lmao





	

**Author's Note:**

> Shikamaru sneaks a kiss while no one's looking ;)

Low, grumbling, inhalations were all that broke the silence. A silence overbearing, a silence that crushed any semblance of sleep Shikamaru had any hopes of getting. A silence interrupted only by gruff, quiet snoring of the figure beside him.

He was staring, he was aware of that at least. But it was impossible not to, what with the hypnotic rise and fall of his chest, the soft stillness of his face. Shikamaru knew what he looked like when he slept, it wasn’t much different than how he looked awake. Most people looked “softer” more at “peace”. But Chouji was always soft, and always at peace, at least he mostly was. 

More so around him, Shikamaru came to notice.

You see, Shikamaru had spent the better half of the last couple of years taking note of faces. Not just any faces, but Chouji’s. It was hard to pinpoint when exactly, but at some point around age ten Shikamaru realized that slanted almond eyes and red swirled cheeks began invading his every thought.

But Shikamaru didn’t do crushes, and he certainly didn’t do confessions.

It wasn’t hard to observe. They were good friends, Shikamaru knew when it was safe to let his gaze linger, and even still, it was easy to come up with an excuse.

“You’ve got food on your face,”

“I was just spacing out,”

Things that he had a little more trouble expressing were things along the lines of;

“You have an adorable smile,”

And “I think I might have a crush on you.”

No, Shikamaru didn’t do confessions. He did less troublesome things like observing, reflecting and day dreaming.

Like the day he observed his friend happily gulping down mouthfuls of warm saucy barbeque and later reflected on the way Chouji licked his lips with such a blissful look on his face, and then spent the last few hours before sleep in his bed, day dreaming about the possibility he could taste the meal for himself off of the Akimichi’s diligent tongue.

He was observing again tonight, and he scolded himself for being so pitiful. They were here in the middle of an important mission, and he couldn’t bother getting rest as he was too focused on absorbing every detail of his childhood friend’s sleeping character.

Every snore was like a growling bear and Shikamaru thanked the heavens Chouji was a heavy sleeper because before he could think of what he was doing he was pressing his head to the others inflating chest. A smile pulled his lips as softness pushed up against him. He could feel the taut muscles just below a layer of health, muscle he knew existed despite the boy’s appearance. A grumbled rolled below his cheek, rumbling through the mass between him and the genin’s stomach. The sound made Shikamaru’s chest swell with fondness as he concluded his friend was no doubt dreaming about food.

The Nara forced himself upright again, looking down at Chouji’s sleeping face again with the fondness now radiating outward from his face. He was surely grinning like a fool in the dark to himself and he sent another small prayer of thanks that no one was here to observe him. His eyes wandered over the details of Chouji’s face, taking them in, determined to memorize every quirk, flutter or flinch of movement.

No, Shikamaru didn’t do confessions, too many variables. But Shikamaru did less troublesome things, like using the fact your crush was such a heavy sleeper to boldly lean down and grace his lips with your first kiss.

He stayed a moment. Let the puffs of warm air and occasional snore tickle against his skin as he absorbed, and digested, Chouji in his entirety, with a sense of accomplishment. It didn’t matter now, who either of them married. Because surely they would both grow old and marry women, enlarge their respective clans and fulfill the duties all men must come to fulfill. 

But, for now, it didn’t matter, because Chouji had his first kiss and that’s all he could ever ask for. All he could ever need.

The boy leaned back again, about to take another moment to linger on Chouji’s rising and falling chest, when something clicked and lit up the darkness just shy of the tree line. The Nara’s eyes were drawn instantly, instinctively and defensively to the light. Relief washed over him, but quickly followed by dread as he realized Asuma sat under the tree, only a few feet away. His lighter held close to his face to light a cigarette, but it was burning already and smoke puffed from between his lips as he made eye contact with the boy.

Shikamaru sat frozen, wondering if he’d seen, if he’d noticed; his fabricated uncertainty crumbled in vain as the Jounin cracked a smile, shot his student a wink and let the fire die out, extinguishing the possibility that his deed had gone unnoticed. Some ninja he turned out to be.


End file.
